If I Grow Up by Todd Strasser Read Free Book Online Page B

get wet?” I asked.
    â€œAnd play with shorties?” Terrell asked derisively, his hands working the controller feverishly, his forehead glistening with sweat.
    â€œWho cares?” I said. “Long as we cool off.”
    Terrell didn’t answer. He was busy mowing down bad guys. “I’m gonna get that new PlayStation soon as it comes out.”
    â€œOh, yeah? What bank are you gonna rob?” I asked.
    Terrell glanced at the closed door to his room, then pulled a thick wad of bills out of his pocket and fanned them. Mostly fives and tens, and more money than I’d ever seen in one place.
    â€œWhere’d you get that?” I whispered.
    â€œSmash ’n’ grabs,” he answered.
    I gave him an uncertain look. Smashing car windows at red lights and grabbing chains off drivers’ necks, or pocketbooks from seats, was a serious hustle. But it was hard to imagine how else he could have come up with that much gwap.
    There was a knock on the door, and Terrell quickly slid the money back into his pocket. “Who’s there?”
    The door opened and Laqueta looked in. Her skin was all ashy, her hair nappy, and she was wearing a long, yellow T-shirt with stains on the front. It was hard to believe that she’d once been the prettiest girl in the projects. But that was before Darnell fell.
    â€œGo get me a bottle of Cisco,” she said.
    â€œGet lost,” Terrell shot back, hunched over his game controller.
    â€œGet me that bottle, or I’ll tell your momma how much money you got,” Laqueta threatened.
    Terrell grit his teeth. Women were not allowed to boss gangbangers—even pretend gangbangers—around.
    â€œCome on,” I said. “I want to get out of here anyway.”
    Passing the stairwell on the fourth floor, we came across a bent old man gripping a walker with bony hands. His hair was white, his yellow eyes were bloodshot, and his skin hung from his face like baggy clothes.
    â€œI need some food.” When he spoke, you saw more pink gum than teeth. Tied to the front of the walker was a basket with a few wrinkled dollar bills and some change inside.
    â€œGive me the money,” Terrell said. “I’ll get you something.”
    â€œNot you. Him.” The old man pointed a shaky finger at me. “You Shanice’s grandson, right? They say you a good boy. I ain’t eat in two days. Get me some sardines and a loaf.”
    â€œOkay.” I reached into the basket and took the money. “What apartment you in?”
    â€œDon’t matter,” he said. “I’ll wait for you here.”
    â€œYou can’t stand here and wait,” I said. “Tell me what apartment you’re in, and I’ll bring it to you.”
    The old man turned to Terrell. “Go away.”
    Terrell gave him a contemptuous look, then headeddown the stairwell to the next floor. With his shaky, wrinkled hand, the old man grabbed my shirtsleeve and tugged me close so he could whisper into my ear. His breath smelled god-awful. “Four-G. But don’t go tellin’ that other boy. He’ll break in, steal everything I have.”
    It was hard to imagine the old man had anything worth stealing, but I agreed just the same.
    The closest food store was Wally’s. The front was boarded up and covered with colorful graffiti and tags. You wouldn’t have thought it was even a place of business unless you knew it was there. Inside, the light was dim and a ceiling fan whirred. The sweet scent of ripe fruit hung in the air. Wally was a big, fat walrus of a man who sat all day by the cash register. People said he kept a sawed-off shotgun under the counter.
    â€œDon’t be coming in here to steal,” he warned when we entered. He had a green dish towel draped around his fat neck, and his shirt was dark with sweat stains.
    â€œYou got sardines and a loaf?” I asked.
    â€œSardines over there.” Wally pointed a fat